EDITOR-AT-LARGE: Juicing is my new daily grind

Lately I’ve been waking up at 5:30 to a machine that sounds like metal forks in a garbage disposal.

I did not anticipate the consequences of purchasing a new Brevel 800 Juice Fountain Elite, a 1,000-watt extracter that rotates 13,000 times per minute, an appliance that could suck liquid out of dry bark.

Our refrigerator has become a veritable jungle of various leafy greens and mangled roots. I had never before purchased kale, nor could I pick a piece of ginger out of a bushel of potatoes; suddenly we’re buying these delights in bulk.

“God’s nectar,” my boyfriend always says with enthusiasm before slugging back a pint of liquid grass.

After watching hours of infomercials of Dr. Oz, juicing is the newest health fad we’re trying, along with mild flirtations with going gluten-free. I should note that no one in our house has ever struggled with weight problems, nor do any of us have celiac disease or any sign of allergy to the protein in wheat.

We apparently enjoy paying four times more for frozen dinners at high-end grocery stores — shouldn’t products that are lacking something cost less? — waking up to the sound of a car crash and telling ourselves through gritted teeth that this sludge tastes good.

We’re not alone in our indulgence of this healthy torture. Juice bars are popping up all over Long Beach (frozen yogurt is so passe), and local restaurants are offering a wider selection of gluten-free fare.

Press-Telegram business reporter Andrew Edwards wrote a story about the gluten-free craze on Tuesday (“L’Opera decides to serve vegan, gluten-free cuisine”), citing new menu items at L’Opera Ristorante, Zephyr and Steamed Organic Vegetarian Cuisine.

I don’t want to judge. I know there’s a lot of research out there supporting the notion that wheat and other carbs, along with all forms of soda, are the cause of the current obesity epidemic. But I’m old enough to know that this isn’t the first, nor will it be the last, solution to society’s health problems.

Back in the ’80s, the problem was fat. Everything was fat-free: yogurt, milk, cheese, even sweets. I once survived a whole month on nothing but pretzels and Diet Coke.

Then we entered the carb-free phase: Eat all the fat you want, but no fruit, no bread, no pasta. Even some vegetables were off limits. My parents were particularly fond of the Atkins diet; our plates were loaded with steak, bacon, pork chops — anything that once had a face — along with the obligatory salad.

It actually worked; we withered off the pounds. But it was hard to shake the feeling that something was missing, and I eventually found that something at the bottom of a bag of Oreos.

Advertisement

And so we play along, yet again. Eventually, I know that the juicer will earn its place in the appliance graveyard in the corner of the garage next to the breadmaker, the pasta maker, the s’mores maker (that’s right: a s’mores maker), the popcorn popper and the Seal-a-Meal.

What will take its place on the kitchen counter as our next faddish gizmo? A countertop do-it-yourself liposuction machine? A Calorie Zapper 5000?

My only request is that it be something — anything — no louder than a lullaby.

Melissa Evans is city editor of the Press-Telegram. She can be reached at melissa.evans@presstelegram.com.